


Sleeper Hold

by elounarry



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Nightmare Shiro is terrible, Nightmares, Rape/Non-con Elements, Real Shiro is a sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 23:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16942731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elounarry/pseuds/elounarry
Summary: Keith believes that the brain is the most powerful weapon. It's gotten him through the worst times of his life, but it's also created some of the most awful scenarios he could experience. A nightmare about Shiro leaves Keith shaken, but it's the real Shiro that reminds him of his reality.





	Sleeper Hold

**Author's Note:**

> There is no descriptive rape that takes place in this but the nightmare Keith has could still bother those who are sensitive to this so please be mindful of the tags! Would also like to note real Shiro is amazing because I don't think I could actually write Shiro hurting Keith like this

“Shiro?” Keith couldn’t see too well in the darkness of the room but was able to make out the slumped over form sitting on the edge of the bed. Shiro didn’t respond, his body immobile and quiet, the only sound from the soft white noise of his new arm. Keith made his way into the room, shutting the door behind him and settling himself next to Shiro, silent and careful.

“I can’t help but feel like I messed up.” Shiro’s voice was dark and broken, so unlike what Keith was used to.

“What do you feel like you messed up?”

“Adam.”

That one name conveyed more than Shiro needed to say. Keith knew the pain of loss, but this was a different kind, one Keith couldn’t identify with. Whatever feelings he’d had for Shiro back then were stamped down and shoved into the deepest part of his heart. Shiro had loved Adam, and Adam had loved him back. As much as it killed him, Keith always thought they were destined for greatness together, in all facets of life. But now, nothing is what Keith thought it was going to be, and Adam is only a memory forever immortalized on a memorial.

Shiro held the weight of all that pain, the expression on his face twisted into gut wrenching guilt and regret. Keith wrapped his arm around Shiro and pulled him in to tuck his head under Keith’s chin. It was a little awkward, Keith having never comforted anyone like this and Shiro’s size making the angles not work as well. Shiro’s frame was stiff but he didn’t complain, and Keith didn’t let go.

“I think the worst part,” Shiro started, “is that I accepted that we weren’t going to work out. But I still wanted to talk things out, at least be friends.” His voice cracked at the end and Keith felt the small drops of tears slide down his arm in crooked rivets. Keith didn’t care if he was crushing the larger body in his arms, he wanted Shiro to know how much cared about him and how he was going to be there no matter what. Words wouldn’t do any justice, but words weren’t needed in this moment. Not from Keith at least.

Shiro righted himself up, not pulling completely out of Keith’s arms and even maneuvered his body to hold Keith at his waist. The glow from Shiro’s arm was faint but it was enough to light his face and reveal the redness around his eyes and the faint tear tracks that slid down his cheeks. Keith had never seen Shiro in such a state, always the confidant and advice giver, but never the one showing his pain. He guessed that was why he felt so devoted to Shiro, knowing he was hurting inside even though he refused to show it. Slowly but surely it seemed he let Keith see that other side of him, the one where he didn’t have to wear his mask of bravado and let his defenses down.

A flesh hand came and cupped Keith’s face, shocking him out of his thoughts, forcing his stare right into Shiro’s.

“Keith.”

He can’t recall a time where his name elicited both anticipation and fear, the distance of their faces adding a certain anxiousness to the air.

Then there were lips on his, the hand that was cupping his face now holding on to the back of his head. Keith made a noise of surprise in the back of his throat and placed a hand on Shiro’s chest to push him back.

“Shiro. I don’t think this is the right time.” Keith had imagined Shiro’s lips on his more times than he could remember, but Shiro wasn’t in the right state of mind. He was still grieving over his dead former lover. Grieving over…everything. So much had happened even Keith wasn’t fully ready to approach what’d been simmering below the surface. He was a geyser ready to burst, but he’d held off and threw all warning signs to the wayside.

“I think this is the perfect time.” Shiro disregarded his comment and kissed him again but with more force, not leaving room for Keith to react or move. He struggled in Shiro’s hold, the new prosthetic wrapping around Keith’s body and bringing him in closer. Panic started to crawl over him and he used as much of his strength as he could to push back, but Shiro’s strength exceeded his own. His broad, heavier body was winning against Keith and soon he found himself pinned down on the bed. The prosthetic held him down firmly by his chest now, and that’s when real fear spiked through him. It was the same fear he felt looking into Shiro’s eyes and begging for him to come back, to remember who he was and fight whatever was happening to him. 

Lips trailed from his mouth and down his neck and Keith shivered at the sensation, trying his best to duck his head and remove Shiro from him. “Shiro, please stop.” Keith’s voice shook but it seemed to have no effect, a darker expression falling over Shiro’s face.

“Stop? Now why would I do that?” He mocked.

Keith almost choked, hearing that voice again. “I don’t want this.” He sounded so small.

“I have a hard time believing that. You’re so transparent, Keith. You’ve been obvious from the beginning. Now I’m just giving you what you want.” He punctuated the last word by pulling Keith’s sweats off and exposing him. Keith gasped and attempted to close his legs but Shiro forced himself between them and spread them apart.

“Shiro! No! Please don’t do this. Not like this, please not like this.” His voiced cracked through his begging, breathing labored as he hiccupped through oncoming tears. 

Shiro used his flesh hand to pull down his own pants, releasing his hard on and pressing it against Keith.

Keith pushed and hit wherever his hands could reach, desperate to get out of Shiro’s hold and away from the hungry gaze. This wasn’t Shiro, this couldn’t be. The anger, chaos, and need for destruction mirrored their time in the clone facility, but this display of rage and power carried a far heavier weight, one that was more personal and would tear Keith apart from the inside. Keith could take any punch to the face, any kick to the gut, but his inexperience and fear of intimacy was being displayed and torn open, used against him in the worst way. He was supposed to be able to trust Shiro, know that he could put his entire self in Shiro’s hands and be rest assured he was safe. It wasn’t Shiro last time, Keith told himself. He was being mind controlled and forced to fight Keith ‘til the end.

He wasn’t so sure now.

Wasn’t sure as Shiro ignored his pleas and used his advanced strength to force Keith to his will. He had Keith’s shirt pushed up to his underarms, hand wandering over his neck, his chest, and the lines of his body. Every touch and drag of that hand was a catalyst for the fear and near-arousal within him. Shiro’s dark smirk kept any real pleasure at bay.

“You feel so good under me,” Shiro groaned, eyes raking over his squirming body. “I don’t know why it’s taken me this long to do this. I should’ve done this back at the Garrison when you were smaller and weaker.”

Keith sobbed at the thought. If this had happened at the Garrison Keith wouldn’t have trusted another soul ever again. Even now he’s finding his trust on shaky ground. He loved Shiro with every beat of his heart, every fiber of his being singing and longing for him. But this was a betrayal that cut deeper than any wound from his past. Worse than the abandonment of his mother, even rivaling the death of his father.

What happened to the Shiro that had been crying over his losses and mourning the tragedies that befell himself and Earth? Was it a ploy? A wolf in sheep’s skin to lure Keith in and then pounce? His questions remained unanswered as Shiro’s hands clutched behind Keith’s knees and pushed them closer to his chest, grip painfully tight as he used his advantage to open Keith’s legs wider, as if wanting to see Keith terrified and struggling against his hold. Shiro was taking his time, knowing he could use his brute strength as a player in this game he played. Keith was reduced to his place as a pawn, to be used as seen fit.

The thick length of Shiro rubbed over his ass and he made a pleased sound at the contact while Keith couldn’t help the whine that slipped out.

“Please, Shiro, don’t do this.” Keith couldn’t be bothered with the tears that stung his eyes and blurred his vision, but he hated how stuck his voice sounded in his throat, pathetic and futile.  
His pleas continued to fall on deaf ears as Shiro lined himself up, pushing the head against Keith’s tight entrance.

Keith struggled again, more frantic. “No, no!”

Shiro stared him in the eyes, eyes a violent red and bursting with malic, and thrust in.

\--

Keith screamed as he bolted upright in bed. He scrambled backwards, pushing against the phantom body that had been on top of him but was now a single sheet wrapped around his legs. He heaved in the dark room, back against the cool headboard and frantically going over the awful remnants of his nightmare. In a quick swipe to his right he turned on a lamp, illuminating the area and shedding light in the pitch-black room. Kosmo hurried over from his place at the end of the bed and whined at Keith’s distress, nosing and licking at Keith’s face and hands, wanting to get in his arms. Keith couldn’t stop himself from sobbing, shaking and crying as held on to Kosmo like a life line, using his companion to calm and tether himself back to reality. Keith’s not unfamiliar to nightmares, and certainly not ones involving a mind washed Shiro, but he’d never been subjected to a horror on that level. A horror that played on his worst fears and manifested itself as phycological torture. 

A haze surrounded him, emotions from his dream spilling over into his consciousness, leaving him on edge and shaken. The walls of his room were too close, a cage keeping him in instead keeping things out. There was a buzz in his body, a vibration that went from his ears and down his spine, paranoia lurking in his peripherals and keeping him secured to his dog. It had all been so vivid, so real and unforgiving as his mind played tricks on him and locked him in a mental prison.

A knock sounded at the door, instantly bringing Keith to full awareness, a curtain dropping to reveal the reality behind it. The walls became just walls. The vibrations in his limbs subsided, leaving nothing but the cool of his sweat behind. He breathed out.

“Keith?” Oh no. _Shiro_.

“Come in,” he answered after a moment’s hesitation, using the sheet to wipe at his face. It’s instinctive to let Shiro in at any time of the day or night, not giving a second thought to letting Shiro enter his space. His skin prickled as the door slid open revealing Shiro in jeans and a Henley, slippers covering his feet. Keith would make a comment under normal circumstances, but now he’s more consumed by the conflicting emotions of want and wariness.

“Keith? What’s wrong? I heard screaming. Are you okay?” Shiro had the same concern in his eyes that he’d always had for Keith, a stark contrast to nightmare-Shiro who only wanted pain. 

Shiro made his way to the edge of Keith’s bed, sitting down close to him. Keith was hit with a sense of guilt at wanting to curl up and distance himself, but he kept himself still as he took in the caring and careful expression of Shiro.

Keith sniffled and swallowed the lump in his throat. “I had a nightmare.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really…” He trailed off. It’d kill him to tell Shiro the details of his dream. It’d probably kill Shiro, who already carried the guilt of what happened. Shiro had touched the scar on his cheek with so much pain in his eyes, voice broken as he apologized over and over again. Keith still hadn’t told him about his other nightmares that involved their fight, thinking it best he held those closer to himself.

“Oh. Okay,” Shiro responded, morose. Keith clutched the sheet at Shiro’s dejected look. Maybe he could open up about this, not fully, but a short, vague version. One where Keith didn’t have to relive it all and Shiro wouldn’t drown in his own self-loathing. So he steadied his breath and spoke low.

“I had a dream…where you weren’t yourself again.” Shiro’s face crumpled in pain. Keith’s breath caught in his lungs and he leaned over and moved to sit next to Shiro. He could see it in Shiro’s eyes, the set of his jaw, the burden he carried of those memories and the continued effect it had on them. He must be exhausted and burned out from the constant reliving of that horrid night. To have memories of a moment he never lived but was left to deal with the consequences.

Keith finds himself hugging Shiro and holding him close. There’s warmth in the way Shiro hugs him back, both sinking into each other from the contact.

“It’s okay, Shiro. It was just a dream. I’m okay, and it wasn’t you. Not the real you.” Keith met Shiro’s eyes, the shade of iron not matching the fierce red of his nightmare, and the touch of nightmare-Shiro fading away as real-Shiro reached for his hand in a delicate grasp.

“And you’re really okay? I could—" Shiro stopped himself, looking around unsure.

“Yes?” Keith encouraged.

“I could stay the night. If you’d like. I don’t have to if you don’t want me to, I understand—”

“Shiro,” Keith interrupted softly, cutting off his rambling. Images of Shiro pushing him down and careening over him flashed in his head. He shuddered at the involuntary memories and pushed them from his mind. In front of him wasn’t some manic sadist hoping to tear Keith apart. What he saw was a man working through the onslaught of shit life had thrown at him and was wanting to do his best. “I wouldn’t mind at all if you stayed.” He gave a tired smile in consolation and squeezed the hand that had rested over his.

The smile that formed on Shiro’s face left Keith feeling warm inside, like tea straight from the kettle settling in his stomach. They sat like that for a few more moments, Keith basking in the presence of Shiro and how he assuaged the panic from his encumbered sleep.

“I hate seeing you cry,” Shiro said.

“And I hate crying.”

A breath huffed out of Shiro, a small laugh. “Well, no more tears. I’m going to change into PJs then I’ll be right back.” Keith nodded as Shiro got off the bed. He didn’t make for the door right away but looked down at him in what Keith could only hope was fondness, then ran a slow hand through Keith’s hair, tucking a few unruly strands behind his ear. Nothing was said as Shiro left and Keith’s gaze followed his figure out the door. He sighed heavily as he flopped down his bed, heart loud and furious in his chest, adrenaline spiking momentarily. Kosmo took that as his cue to come rest by Keith’s side. He’d been silent throughout Keith and Shiro’s interaction, Keith almost forgetting he was there. He gave him several pets.

“Thanks for being there, too.” Kosmo whined and burrowed more into Keith. Keith reached to turn off the lamp, pitching the room back into darkness. But he didn’t fear it this time; he welcomed it knowing Shiro was coming back to him. He shook off his anxieties the best he could, keeping the crawling feeling at bay and pushing forward the memories of Shiro that made him smile and laugh, that made him feel welcome and wanted. As he drifted off, he heard the opening and closing of his door, then felt the dip of his bed. He wasn’t sure if it was his mind fooling him again in his half-asleep state, or if he really heard Shiro speaking to him, but it was his voice that he last heard before falling into a dreamless slumber.

“Goodnight, Keith.”


End file.
